


Reflections of a Mind

by Ink_stained_quills



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_stained_quills/pseuds/Ink_stained_quills
Summary: Ministories, each about different subjects





	1. Librarian Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> I don't anticipate basically anyone reading this, but just in case: this is cross-posted to tumblr!

There’s a new thought to be shelved, and Lillian isn’t quite sure where it goes.

This is a novelty in itself - usually, she knows where everything goes in Alexandra’s brain. Thoughts about school in this section, sports on this shelf, ect. Songs are trickiest, they tend to worm their way into multiple sections until she can clear them out.

But this time, it’s a thought about college. College, Lillian thinks, should be shelved in school. But it could also go in ‘thoughts about the future’, or ‘expectations’, ‘goals’, anything in between. This particular thought could go into ‘anxiety’.

Being a thought librarian means Lillian has to shelve everything just so, or the whole brain will go a tad wonky. When she was still in training, she once shelved a ‘food’ thought in a slot that should have been a ‘sleep’ one, and Alexandra was up until three in the morning craving a burger. Rookie mistake.

Usually she tries to pick at the feeling around a thought - ‘expectations’ could be nerves, excitement, or determination. All Lillian can feel around this one is fear. 

The notification for a thought Alexandra intends to have pops up, and Lillian looks up from the troubling ‘college’ thought to see a ‘sad about growing up’ request flash across the screen.

“Things were certainly easier when she was a toddler,” Lililan grumbles, recalling the days when she had only a few categories to keep track of.

Still, she uploads the ‘sad about growing up’ thought, and tinges it with some ‘hope for the future’. She’s pleased with the results for about half a minute before the next request pops up: ‘college’. Ugh. Taking ‘Little League’ by Conan Gray off the mental playlist for the week, Lillian decides to call another library.

Her fellow thought librarian deliberates on the other end of the call for a long moment before recommending she should “find somebody who specializes in this sort of thing”. Lillian takes his advice, uploading another thought. ‘Therapy’ flashes across Alexandra’s brain for a moment before the idea is hurriedly shoved away and marked ‘do not think about’.

Interesting. There aren’t many things Alexandra’s marked ‘do not think about’ over the years, least of all something that could help her. It’s Lillian’s prerogative to shut this thought away, bring it out a while later for further consultation.

She does no such thing.

Instead, Lillian uploads it to Alexandra’s consciousness a few times a week (maybe spamming her would help?) until, finally, the thought returns with another label on it: ‘volatile’. That’s never happened before, and she’s not sure what it means until Alexandra’s mother brings it up.

“You know, dear,” she suggests, “Since you’re a senior this year, you might want to see a counselor.”

Alexandra stabs at her food.

Lillian, ever one to press the advantage, uploads the thought - or, tries to. It’s locked off. Alexandra simply isn’t letting herself think about the option, which can’t be healthy for her. What is she going to do when entrance exams come up?

Okay. She can fix this.

For the next few weeks, she doesn’t send ‘college’ or ‘therapy’ at all, instead plying Alexandra with good memories. Finally, Lillian thinks she has a handle on the situation. Of course, at that exact moment, her mother brings it up again.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” the older woman reassures her, “but it should just be something you think about.” Lillian might have to call Cassidy and inform her that she shouldn’t bring certain topics up.

“Sure, mom,” Alexandra tells her.

Behind Lillian, the ‘volatile’ sticker flutters off.


	2. (When the) Gloves Come Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when my update schedule will be, so maybe subscribe?

The higher your gloves are, the more you have to hide.

“Of course,” you say, “Wonky fingers? A tattoo you can only appreciate in the dark? What a lovely metaphor!”

And it would be lovely - if it was a metaphor. Instead, people go around showing (not what, but how much) they have to hide. Anna’s mother has gloves of blood red, ending at her wrists, while her father’s are black and fingerless. Jennifer - her pretty, perfect sister - has see-through gloves of lace, barely-there fabric draped fetchingly over her hands.

Anna’s gloves practically go up to her shoulders.

“You know,” her sister remarks one day, while she’s doing her makeup, “You could just reveal a few. I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“I’m good.”

Jennifer sets down her brush. “If those gloves go up any higher, you’ll be drowning in them.”

“I’m good,” Anna repeats pointedly, flexing her fingers. She can feel the scratchy fabric move with her like a second skin.

“I just don’t want to see you shunned,” Jennifer sighs, eyeing Anna in the mirror. “Too many more secrets, and your gloves might never shrink.”

“We’re nobility,” Anna reminds her sister stiffly. Fully aware of her hypocrisy. “I’ll just stick with the court. They’ve got more to hide than I do.”

“You and I both know you don’t want to do that,” Jennifer says quietly.

And she doesn’t. But she’s collecting secrets, Anna is, and at sixteen she’s perfectly happy with her gloves. (She’s not - feels their creeping fabric urging her to keep secrets, urging her to let them grow. Feels their scratchiness rub at her, even when she sleeps.)

“Young mistresses,” their butler announces from behind the door, “Miss Evangeline has arrived to take tea with Miss Jennifer.”

“I’ll go,” Anna declares without being asked. Evangeline has been Jennifer’s best friend since childhood, but more and more often lately she’s been kicked out of rooms so the older girls can gossip.

Jennifer flashes a winning smile at the butler, setting her makeup brushes down in precise positions. “Send her up, please!”

Anna ducks out of the room as Evangeline darts in, soft smile directed towards her for but an instant before Benjamin closes the door. “Shall we, Miss Annalise?”

“We shall,” Anna replies, taking his arm. She feels the stretch of glove that contains his secret itch, a reminder of the time she asked him why he looked at the head cook with more fondness than he did anyone else.

They make their way down to the kitchens (Anna knows she’s used as a bit of an excuse, but she also knows both staff members do love her like a little niece, so she doesn’t mind). Martha smiles back at him, extra sparkle in her eyes as she ladles out soup, and Anna feels one corner of her mouth lift.

“Oh,” she remembers, “I left my book in Jennifer’s room.”

“Want me to walk you back, Miss Anna?” Benjamin offers, but Anna waves him off with a wink.

She climbs the stairs to Jennifer’s tower room, giving a single knock as she opens the door, and slides into the room. “I’ll just be getting my book, don’t wo-”

Anna stares.

Jennifer lurches away from Evangeline, from where the two were clearly holding hands, from where their faces were too close for lady companions. “It’s not - Anna. It’s not what it looks like.”

“I think it is,” Anna inhales. “That’s - that’s okay. Jen, I wish you’d told me.”

“They can’t know,” Evangeline pleads, gripping the bottom of her skirt. “Jennifer would never become a scholar, and I… could never go home again.”

“Her gloves are too high already,” Jennifer argues, gesturing at Anna’s arms, and presses her tiny, perfect lips together. “Maybe she could release something smaller - I don’t know, I just won’t let her sacrifice anything for me.”

“I’m not letting anything go.”

Evangeline looks up, eyes glistening with tears, and Anna shakes her head. “I’ll keep everything.”

“Anna -” Jennifer starts, but Anna (Annalise the third, second daughter to Marquess James) draws herself up to her full height of five foot three.

“What’s one more secret?” Anna asks, sweeping out of the room.

Her gloves feel hot and scratchy against her skin.

The higher your gloves are, the more you have to hide.

Anna’s gloves cover her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The joke is that the gloves Never Come Off

**Author's Note:**

> Lillian: you know what's a good idea?  
> Lillian: FORCING THINGS
> 
> This is probably based on my own vague worries ya know


End file.
